Inspiration by the Bucket

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What hurt most was the lack of recognition
when I bumped into myself last night;
I surfaced by the river
in no light,
and asked myself my name,
old fool that I am – -
till it hit me, by (of all things)
pulling at my leg.

Aha! It’s me! I cried – -
How many ways
I’ve tried
to run…
but in the end, something always pulls
(especially since it all began that way, for us;
The God of Abraham
is fond of structure.)

No matter;
I am more whole now that I am shattered:
Less scattered.
And somehow I am sure
that I will meet myself again – -
perhaps I will keep breaking.